


Late-Night Smoking

by Theverity_01



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cigarettes, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcrux Hunting, M/M, Malfoy accepts help, Sectumsempra, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 01:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theverity_01/pseuds/Theverity_01
Summary: Harry knew smoking helped the pain, and that Malfoy was definitely in. So instead of "Sectumsempra", he said."Want one?"And threw Malfoy his pack, the lighter inside.





	Late-Night Smoking

**Author's Note:**

> This my first work. I wrote it two years ago and found it in my notes a while ago. Since then I've revised some of my atrocious spelling and improved a few points. I'm deliberating writing a second part, about during the war, let me know if you'd like that. Please enjoy!

It started as a one-off, really. Harry Potter hadn't been walking around for very long, when he saw Duddly, his whale of a cousin, with his gang, all standing on the curb each with a cigarette.

He didn't think much of it and started to turn around, so his cousin didn't see him and tell his parents that Harry had snuck out, when something hit his back. At first, the messy haired boy thought they'd seen him, and turned around, because trying to outrun them was futile at this point. Upon turning around though, he realized that what had hit him was an empty cigarette pack that a member of 'Big D's gang had carelessly thrown over their shoulder. Harry didn't really know why, but he bent down to retrieve the wayward package, perhaps he had intended to dispose of it. That was when he realized that it wasn't, as first presumed, empty, but in fact still had one sole cigarette in it, with a lighter. Harry had always thought Duddly and his gang were imbeciles, but he'd never thought they were this stupid.

As some form of petty revenge, possibly for a miserable childhood, the dark-haired boy stuffed it into his pocket and then continued walking back the way he came.

* * *

It wasn't until a few days later, when he was feeling particularly depressed about Sirius' death, that he took out the cigarette and lit it. Like most people and their first cigarette, he choked on the smoke, but he was nothing if not determined, so he kept at it. Sitting there, hours after the cigarette had been smoked to a stub, the pain was still numb, and Harry was feeling more awake and alive then he had all summer. That was when he decided he couldn't live without narcotics.

The rest of the summer was a blur, except for the nocturne hours he spent smoking. He still had plenty of pounds from when he went to Marks and Spencer's last year with Hermione, she had insisted he exchange at least 500 pounds worth of galleons, "because then you won't have to next year". Next year's shopping trip never came through, because Harry had come back with a trophy and a corpse and a wish to speak with no one.

He didn't begrudge Hermione's insisting though, because now he had no problem using his money to buy cigarettes. And just before Dumbledore came to pick him up, he'd gone to his local off license and bought as many packs of cigarettes as the rest of his money would allow.

At the Wesley's Harry silently left the house most nights, to spend them smoking on a hill near St. Ottery.

He didn't spend the train ride following Malfoy, however mistrustful he was of him, because he was desperately sucking the life out of his cigarette while Ron and Hermione were on their prefect duties.

* * *

At Hogwarts, he still spent his nights watching Malfoy, but this time he was in a deserted corridor or on a balcony smoking to keep awake while obsessing over the blond boy. Sometimes he even did homework then, his grades were better than ever, even if he did sleep through his first lesson every day.

Occasionally Harry spent the nights crying his eyes out and smoking afterward to numb the pain.

And so, it came that when Harry walked in on Malfoy crying in Myrtle's bathroom, he was reminded of himself and his shameful graveyard breakdowns. He reached for his cigarettes instead of his wand. Before Malfoy could even utter his first curse, the chosen one had already closed the door and was leaning against the wall smoking. Harry knew smoking helped the pain, and that Malfoy was definitely in. So instead of Sectumsempra, he said.

"Want one?"

And threw Malfoy his pack, the lighter inside.

* * *

Watching Draco Malfoy discover smoking was a very strange thing.

The pureblood had no idea what they were and spent the first few weeks calling them cig-thingies. Choke he did not though, for he was even more determined then Harry had been and when your school rival gave you some weird muggle thing along with some snide remark about how you won't be able to do it, you don't throw that chance away.

So, Draco Malfoy spent that night smoking cigarette after cigarette with Potter, instead of in the hospital wing.

That was how their friendship started, not that either of them would ever call it that.

At first, they just met up occasionally in the bathroom, as if by chance, even though nobody ever coincidentally meets in a bathroom. Then they started meeting up once a week at night mostly in deserted corridors. By the time March came, Harry and Malfoy were getting together nightly to chain-smoke until morning. Sometimes one the boys actually fell asleep, the other was still there in the morning.

At first, they didn't speak, a silent comfort while Malfoy, and sometimes Harry broke down.

"I still don't believe you're not a death eater."

Those were Harry's first words to Malfoy since their late-night meetings had begun.

Malfoy exhaled, smoke obscuring his face, as he said nothing.

Harry said that to him quite often, once or twice a week maybe. There was never any venom in his words, he only stated them so he himself didn't forget that they weren't actually friends, and that Malfoy could hand him over at any time.

* * *

It changed one stormy night, Malfoy had burst into the bathroom (where they met before moving to some obscure part of the castle) and had a mental breakdown like never before. Harry, as awkward and inexperienced as he was, knew that he should comfort him. And so, taking a page out of Hermione's book, he sat down on the floor next to Malfoy and put a hand on his knee, which the blond boy had pulled up against his chest. It wasn't much, but it spoke volumes.

And when Malfoy had calmed down and they were both smoking, Harry said.

"I still think you're a Death Eater."

This time Malfoy still didn't speak, but he reached out and unbuttoned his left sleeve, to reveal the Dark Mark on his forearm to his smoking buddy.

Harry thought about raging, about shouting and firing curses and accusing Malfoy of all the bad things that had been happening. Like Malfoy expected.

And for a moment he thought he would too until he leaned against the wall again and resignedly whispered,

"I guess I knew."

And then, because he suddenly understood and couldn't keep his curiosity at bay.

"Tell me about it."

And there, in that decrepit moldy bathroom, Malfoy told Harry everything, he didn't stop speaking until well after breakfast the next day, for neither had left when night became day.

Harry hadn't said a thing the whole time, but now all was quiet, and he felt he should at least say something to fill the silence.

"So, what are you going to do?"

Malfoy's head snapped up so fast his neck let out an alarming crack. His body was tense, betraying the look of nonchalance on his face.

"What do you mean Potter? Aren't you going to go to Dumbledore and tell him that Malfoy is conspiring to kill him and have me expelled because I'm a Death Eater?"

Harry didn't answer as he sucked in a drag and slowly exhaled. He knew that if he hadn't spent months seeing how depressed Malfoy was and how unwilling he was to kill, he might have done just that, stun Malfoy and run to Dumbledore.

But he had.

So, he took a risk instead and whispered.

"Dumbledore would never turn anyone away who's in need of help, we, me and you, can still get him. He'll help, maybe even with your parents."

He paused.

"Or we could act like nothing's changed, I forget all this, and you become a murder and spend the rested your life in Voldemort's service."

He inhaled and exhaled.

"The choice is yours."

Malfoy looked at Potter then, in another life where he'd never excepted the fag Harry gave him that first day, he was in the finishing stages of fixing the vanishing cabinet, in this one, he's not touched it for weeks, instead of spending his time aimlessly wandering around Hogwarts and silently smoking.

He made no sound as he smoked his cigarette to the butt, then Potter stood up and held out his hand.

"We can either go to Dumbledore or attend Snape's class, but I'm not missing it without a good excuse, he'll have my head if I do."

Draco Malfoy exhaled his last drag and hauled himself up with the help of Potter's hand.

"Let's go to the old man then."


End file.
